The Girl Who Hid | ✓

|98| Silver and Opals

As Hermione and I waited for Harry and Ron to come down to breakfast for our first trip to Hogsmeade, this year, Ron came bustling down the steps telling us all about the new spell Harry learned.

"... and then there was another flash of light and I landed on the bed again!" Ron grinned, helping himself to sausages.

Although more concerned than content, I smiled a bit at Ron's story. Hermione, on the other hand had not cracked a smile during this anecdote, and now turned an expression of wintry disapproval upon Harry.

"Was this spell, by any chance, another one from that potion book of yours?" she asked.

Harry frowned at her.

"Always jump to the worst conclusion, don't you?"

"Was it?"

"Well... yeah, it was, but so what?"

"So you just decided to try out an unknown, handwritten incantation and see what would happen?"

"Why does it matter if it's handwritten?" said Harry, preferring not to answer the rest of the question.

"Because it's probably not Ministry of Magic–approved," said Hermione. "And also," she added, as Harry and Ron rolled their eyes, "because I'm starting to think this Prince character was a bit dodgy."

Both Harry and Ron shouted her down at once.

"It was a laugh!" said Ron, upending a ketchup bottle over his sausages. "Just a laugh, Hermione, that's all!"

"Dangling people upside down by the ankle?" said Hermione. "Who puts their time and energy into making up spells like that?"

"Fred and George," said Ron, shrugging, "it's their kind of thing. And, er —"

"Wait," I said suddenly. "Harry, didn't we se— uh, didn't Lupin tell us of a spell our dad did, like that?"

"What?" said Ron and Hermione together.

"Yeah— our dad used this spell," said Harry.

Lupin never told us that, it was a lie; in fact, Harry and I had seen our father use the spell on Snape, but we had never told Ron and Hermione about that particular excursion into the Pensieve. Looking over at Harry, I knew he understood my face, a possibility occurred to me: Could the Half-Blood Prince possibly be —?

"Maybe your dad did use it, Harry," said Hermione, "but he's not the only one. We've seen a whole bunch of people use it, in case you've forgotten. Dangling people in the air. Making them float along, asleep, helpless."

With a sinking feeling, I, too, remembered the behavior of the Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup.

"That was different," Ron said robustly. "They were abusing it. Harry and their dad were just having a laugh. You don't like the Prince, Hermione," he added, pointing a sausage at her sternly, "because he's better than you at Potions —"

"It's got nothing to do with that!" said Hermione, her cheeks reddening. "If I did, then I'd have a problem with Maisey— but that's not the point. I just think it's very irresponsible to start performing spells when you don't even know what they're for, and stop talking about 'the Prince' as if it's his title, I bet it's just a stupid nickname, and it doesn't seem as though he was a very nice person to me!"

"I don't see where you get that from," said Harry heatedly. "If he'd been a budding Death Eater he wouldn't have been boasting about being 'half-blood,' would he?"

"The Death Eaters can't all be pure-blood, there aren't enough pure-blood wizards left," said Hermione stubbornly. "I expect most of them are half-bloods pretending to be pure. It's only Muggleborns they hate, they'd be quite happy to let you, Maisey, and Ron join up."